“Give it to me,” Sean said.
“What?”
“Give me the map.”
“You’re not going up there.”
“What, you’re volunteering?” he said, his tone bitter and mocking.
“I can go . . .” She was uncertain.
“Is that a joke? Do you think I’m stupid? You’re never getting near our witnesses or this case ever again.”
“Okay. Okay, but, Sean, listen to me. It might not be safe. Sam’s grandfather has guns and he sounds pretty extreme and he real y didn’t want Sam talking to us. I don’t think you should go up there.
It’s not a good idea.”
There was silence for a moment. When Sean spoke again his voice was low and tense. “It isn’t your job to try to protect me. You’re not my mother, and you’re not my keeper. Give me the map.”
Hannah drew a deep, shuddering breath. She handed him the map. He took it from her roughly.
“Do you remember we talked about the murder rule, back in the car, that time when we were going to interview Prosper?”
Hannah swal owed. “Yes.”
“You said then that we should al be responsible for the consequences of our actions, if those consequences could be reasonably foreseen.” He stood up. “These consequences weren’t just foreseeable. They were completely predictable. You didn’t give a shit if Michael was guilty or innocent. You were angry and hurt, and you wanted to make someone pay for whatever shit you’ve been through.”
Hannah hung her head. It was true. Every word he said was true.
“You’re not a lawyer, Hannah, not even close. You’re . . .” Sean took a breath, cutting himself off instead of finishing the sentence.
He stood and walked to the door. “Did it ever occur to you that this is not just about Michael Dandridge? Pierce and his cronies, Jackson Engle, al of them, how many other innocent people have they sent to prison? Did you ever think about that? Jesus, your own theory is that Pierce murdered his brotherin-law. If you see shit like that in the world, Hannah, you stop it. It’s simple. You just . . . you just stop it, al right?”
He left, slamming the door shut behind him. Hannah got back into bed, pul ed the covers over her, turned off the lights, and stared into the darkness.
Sean
EIGHTEEN
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2019
Sean cal ed Rob Parekh before he did anything else. Parekh had been good, after the beating and arrest in Yorktown. He’d been concerned, without a doubt, and he’d acted quickly, cal ing in favors from one of the best defense attorneys in Richmond, finding a doctor who would go to the police station, and putting enough pressure on the deputies that they’d let her see and treat Sean. He’d cal ed Sean’s mother, fil ed her in, supported her. But Parekh had been professional too. The concern had felt genuine, but it also felt one step removed, which was much easier to handle than the overwhelming panic and upset of his mother. Sean didn’t know what to do with those feelings. His mother was usual y so put together.
Now she couldn’t leave him alone. A hand on his shoulder, a kiss on his head, as if to reassure herself that he was stil there. Every time she looked at Sean tears came into her eyes. The whole thing was horribly uncomfortable.
Sean got it. Of course he understood. She had been terrified that he would die in that police station. It wasn’t as if her fear was irrational. The beating he’d taken in the bar had broken his nose, split his lip, shaken a couple of teeth loose, and fractured ribs. Every minute he’d been in that jail cel he’d been waiting for Pierce or one of his deputies to come and finish the job. But in al of the time he’d been in that cel , sitting on the bunk propped up against the wal , struggling to breathe against the pain, he hadn’t been afraid. He had been so fil ed with utter fury that there had been no room for fear. It was a brand-new emotion to him, that anger, but he stil felt it now. It fil ed him up, fueled him so that he ignored the painkil ers the doctors had prescribed. Sean welcomed the pain. It kept him sharp. He couldn’t do what his mother seemed to want him to do, which was retreat and grieve. He had to fight.
When the tracker app on his phone had beeped to let him know that his car was on the move without him, he’d assumed it was Hannah. He’d tried cal ing her, more than once. His phone kept going to voice mail. When the car had come to a stop at her apartment block in Charlottesvil e, that had given him an excuse to get up and go, to do something. He had been climbing the wal s with nervous energy and had wanted to talk to Hannah about exactly what had been said by Sam Fitzhugh. It had seemed like Hannah was making a connection with him at the bar, before everything went wrong.